


The Devil's Trill

by my_shattered_teacup



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Will, Classical Music, Croatia, Daddy Kink, Dark Will, Desk Sex, Domestic, Established Relationship, Gag, Hannigram - Freeform, Light Bondage, M/M, Murder Husbands, Murder Husbands on the Run, Oral Sex, Orgasm Denial, Post TWOTL, Power Bottom Will Graham, Scar Worship, Sonata, Spanking, Tie Kink, Top Hannibal, blowjob, ladder sex, season 4, the devil's trill, violin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-11-16 01:03:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18084416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/my_shattered_teacup/pseuds/my_shattered_teacup
Summary: “Wicked thing.” Hannibal murmured, drawing his thumb across the red and plump expanse of Will’s lower lip. “Do you intend to lure me to Hell? Such beauty…”





	The Devil's Trill

**Author's Note:**

> For a full sensory experience, I recommend listening to "The Devil's Trill" performed by David Garrett while reading. Enjoy.

The evening was pleasantly cool, the breeze over the sea dispelling the lingering warmth of the late spring afternoon. Hannibal had chosen to open the french doors overlooking the balcony, airing out the study in which they took their evening nightcap, the curtains billowing inwards and brushing against the inlaid marble flooring.

Will stood from the settee as Hannibal presented him with a snifter filled with a curiously clear liquid, placing his volume of Dumas upon the side table and accepting the drink before drifting closer to the open doors.

 

He paused, his glass hovering half way in its journey to his lips as he listened to the record Hannibal selected for the evening, the dulcet trills of a lone violin weaving and conjoining in a delicate crescendo.

“Ah,” Hannibal’s lips quirked in the barest hint of amusement, but his eyes were warm as he filled his own snifter with the sweet, aromatic brandy. “I thought you may enjoy the intricacies of this particular piece. ‘The Devil’s Trill.’ Have I played this for you before?”

 “You have not” Will replied dryly, finally taking a sip of his brandy. The liquor was rich and warm, burning like the sweetest ache in his belly. “Although I have no doubt of the pleasure you will take in educating me now that the opportunity has presented itself.”

 Hannibal inclined his head in concession, moving from the dry bar to join Will with his nightcap on their balcony overlooking the sea. They stood there for some moments, watching the ebb and tide of the waves lapping with all the attention of a gentle lover upon the pebbles of the beach below. The moonlight glowed dully in the evening mist, dappled against their skin as the men sipped at their brandy.

 

“This is different.” Will commented, raising his glass of liquor appraisingly when Hannibal showed no signs of elucidating ad nauseum on his choice of classical music for the evening. “I like it.”

“Slivovic rakija” Hannibal replied, his accent crisp, savoring the foreign words upon his tongue. “A local delicacy, a pear and fig brandy specific to the Dalmatian coast.”

Will hummed his approval, taking another slow sip of the liquor and a deep breath of the sea air, savoring the tinge of salt upon his palate.

 

At last, Hannibal broke the silence, turning towards Will and leaning casually onto the balcony railing. “The composer’s name was Giuseppe Tartini. A virtuoso of the Baroque era, but   _”Il Trillo del Diavolo_ ”  was considered his greatest work. He confessed to a dear friend before he died he had a dream as a young man that he sold his soul to the devil.”

 Will watched the delicate skin of Hannibal’s throat contract as he swallowed a sip of the rakija, his mouth suddenly dry.  The dappled moonlight cast deep purple shadows under the hallows of high cheekbones, his appearance haunting in the gloom. Will closed his eyes, half expecting to see the blackened tines of antlers emerging from the skull of the man across from him.  

 “Once the deal was sealed,” Hannibal continued, seemingly unaware of the affect his words had upon his companion. “He held out his violin for the Devil.”

 Hannibal seemed closer to him before, his presence overwhelming Will as he wove his story of the devil's seduction; the gentle roar of the waves and the undulating trill of the violin a sensual accompaniment to his voice.

 “Was he curious what would happen?” Will queried lowly, his tongue sweeping over dry lips as he shifted against the railing, the front of his trousers suddenly tighter than moments ago. A new design bloomed behind his eyes: delicate bodies opened and made to sing like the strings of the finest Stradivari, their hollow voices echoing beneath Hannibal’s steady fingers, flowers strung from open mouths, the air perfumed with notes of sweet jasmine and black dahlias… he smiled, his thoughts barely colored by memories of a killer of the Baltimore Symphony from long ago.

 Hannibal’s eyes shone darkly, as if reading his thoughts. He inhaled deeply as his eyes flicked briefly southward, before continuing his story. Will swallowed heavily, the look in Hannibal’s eyes fortelling only one end to their evening.

“The devil began to play a piece so enrapturing he claimed it would lure any soul into the depths of hell to try and seek its beauty.” Hannibal set his drink down on the wide metal bannister of the railing. Moving closer to Will and placing his palm against the side of his face, his thumb settling against his jaw to stroke against his skin to the steady thrum of his pulse.  

 “Tartini attempted to recapture its brilliance once he awoke, but lamented to his death bed that while the sonata was his greatest accomplishment, it paled in comparison to the work of the Devil he had witnessed.” Hannibal’s voice lowered as he moved closer to Will, his accent thickened, hypnotic, his lips brushing the shell of his ear. A tease, before moving back and fixing his eyes upon Will’s once again.

 “It was scandalous when it was first performed. Devilish, sensual, erotic. Audiences were spellbound in beauty and horror.” Hannibal’s other hand had settled in a firm grip upon Will’s hip, drawing him slowly, inexorably closer.

 ”It’s beautiful, is it not?”

 

The words had barely left his mouth before Will surged forward, frantically grasping the hair at the nape of his neck to pull him flush against him, covering his lips with his own. Hannibal’s mouth was warm and sweet, the fragrance of the rakija blooming between them as they kissed. Desperate, clawing, like two lovers drowning without the presence of the other.  Will’s lips were slightly chapped, dusted with salt from the sea air as Hannibal drew his bottom lip between his teeth, nibbling, savoring. He bit down against the plump lip nestled between his own, he tasted the bright tang of blood in a sanguine rush and the burning warmth of the brandy on his tongue.

Will closed his eyes with a moan as he felt his lip tear, blood spilling forward in crimson drops, each consumed with the reverence of communion as Hannibal lapped at the wound, taking the opportunity to let his tongue slide sensually against Will’s own. An invitation, a warning. Entwined, like the notes of a trill.

 

Will felt himself being walked backwards from the balcony into the study, the cushioned arm of the settee pressing against the back of his knees as Hannibal’s lips trailed down the column of his neck to settle at the dip of his throat, sucking bruises into the tender flesh. Hannibal’s hands roamed possessively, one wrapped securely around Will’s waist, holding him flush against him, while the other worked relentlessly at freeing Will’s shirt from where it was tucked into his trousers, finally reaching skin and rubbing slow circles onto the flesh above his hip bone.

He twisted an arm free from their embrace to lower himself down onto the cushions of the settee behind him, but quickly found it pinned behind his back with a warm chuckle that rumbled against his chest like rich vibrato.

 “I prefer to see you spread beneath me on the cushions when the glow of the afternoon sun warms your flesh. Not tonight, mylimasis.” He pulled Will towards him and Will stumbled, unbalanced, turning to place his hand against the wall for support.

 

“No, not tonight, Hannibal,” he agreed. Will used the wall as leverage, turning to shove him into the plush leather desk chair behind him, the leather still warm from his previous tenancy as he sketched before their nightcap.

He looked up at Will standing over him, looming, victorious; his curls riotous and untamed by his attentions. Godlike. _Mine_. Will held his gaze for a long moment, challenging, before stepping forward in the space left vacant between the other man’s legs and sinking gracefully to his knees before him.

Will smirked triumphantly at the stifled groan as his fingers pressed punishingly against the hard line of his arousal before moving to remove his belt with practiced ease, popping the button of his trousers and confidently pulling at the zipper.

 

“Beautiful….” Hannibal’s rich tenor was a murmur, his head tilted back indulgently, his legs falling open and  eyes hooded as he watched Will hook his fingers around the waistband of his boxer briefs and pull down at an agonizing pace.

Will’s eyes met his, bright and mischievous, his tongue flicking out to tease, lapping at the head of his cock, dipping his tongue beneath the foreskin, enjoying the effect he had on the older man.

 

“Already so wet for me, Dr. Lecter...” Will leaned forward, licking a warm, wet stripe up his length, base to tip. “You’re dripping at the thought of fucking my mouth, aren’t you?”

Hannibal’s eyes closed with a shudder, fingers curling to leave crescent imprints on the leather of the armrests as a burst of wetness leaked in heavy droplets to rest against the pink lips of his lover.

Will swiped a thumb against his lips, sucking indulgently, tasting him, before leaning down and leaving damp, open mouthed kisses up the inside of each thigh, starting at the knee and leaving a trail of wet, pinkened flesh in his wake. Hannibal’s cock was leaking steadily, flushed red, a hard line straining upwards towards the slight curve of his belly. Will moved upwards, deliberately avoiding that part which strained so desperately, so beautifully, for his touch, to nip sharply at a hipbone, tracing his tongue down the shadow of the bone.

“How long do you intend to leave me aching?” His voice was strained, and Will relished the sound.

“I intended to wind you tightly and taught, like a bow.” His tongue flicked out between each word to lap enticingly at the head of his cock.

“Ah...You wish to play me like the finest of instruments, my tormentor?” 

Will grinned, leaned forward and swallowed him down.

 

Hannibal groaned at the sensation, being enveloped so suddenly in warm, wet heat… “.. _.šūdas_ ,  mylimasis.” He growled as Will placed a tanned forearm across Hannibal’s lap, holding his hips firmly in place. Will hummed in response, pure wicked delight, the vibrations against his skin causing Hannibal to his pry loose his fingers from the arm of the chair and weave them purposely through the disheveled curls at the nape of his neck, gripping tight and pushing _down_ , deep into Will’s throat.

Will allowed Hannibal his victory, taking every inch he was given, eyes closed, saliva glinting in the dim light off his swollen lips and glistening in the scruff of his chin. Hannibal pressed his other hand firmly against Will’s neck, feeling the silken slide in and out of his throat, the distended bulge when he pushed himself   _further and further_.  The sounds Will made as Hannibal took his pleasure were positively obscene, saliva dribbling wantonly down the length of his exposed cock before pushing home once again. Hannibal’s thighs trembled as  Will moaned, cruelly gripping the base of his cock, denying him his release. Will shook his head free of his grip, no easy feat, losing locks to questing fingers in the process, and let his cock slip from his open lips.

Will’s chest was heaving as he caught his breath, wiping the excesses from his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’m not done with you yet.” His voice was _wrecked,_ gutterral and thick, his vocal cords battered and bruised by his dedication to his task. His hands gripped harshly, nails digging into the tender skin of Hannibal’s thighs.  Hannibal’s cock throbbed anew at the sight of his Will, disheveled, his mouth thoroughly fucked, lips puffy and swollen from his attentions.

 

“Wicked thing.” Hannibal murmured, drawing his thumb across the red and plump expanse of Will’s lower lip. “Do you intend to lure me to Hell? Such beauty…”

He stood quickly, his hands falling to Will’s arms, yanking him upwards in a display of effortless strength that made Will’s breath leave in a rush of warmth across his lips. He spun him around, lips descending upon his nape, pushing him forward towards the desk.  Will felt a broad, warm palm rubbing soothing circles against the exposed skin of his back where his shirt had ridden up during Hannibal’s careful explorations. The fingers paused, teasing, caressing each knob of vertebrae as they traversed the length of his spine, his lips worshiping the tender skin of his throat, murmuring in a constant litany of Croatian, Lithuanian, Italian, French….Will shuddered at the sensation, torn between pushing against the warmth behind him to seek further contact or to press forward against the desk  seeking a moment of relief from the sweet torment.

Lips brushed against his ear, a tender counterpoint to the tight grip of the fingers digging into the flesh of his hip. Will moaned as he felt the hot, wet tip of a tongue trace the shell of his ear before capturing the lobe between sharp teeth. A nibble, a tease. “Such sweet music you make for me, beloved” he murmured, his breath warm and humid against his skin. “The warmth of your skin beneath my touch…”  Will shuddered against him, and he delighted in the tremor.

“Please...  _Hannibal… ”_  
  
“Shhhh mylimasis, I know what you need.”  
  
That was the only warning Will received before he was pushed forward, his hands flying out to brace himself against the polished wooden surface of the desk. He felt a knee, quickly inserted between his own, kicking his legs apart. He moaned again, closing his eyes as he felt himself grow impossibly harder. A chuckle in his ear, the palm never ceasing in its circles before pressing insistently between his shoulder blades, encouraging him to lay his chest flush against the desktop.  
  
“Bend over for daddy.”

 

Oh _god._   That command, uttered so casually and unexpectedly in Hannibal’s refined tone, would be his undoing. He felt Hannibal reach over him, the end of his tie dragging suggestively against the exposed skin of his back as he leaned over him. His hand, to Will’s mounting frustration, was their only point of contact, unceasing in its circular motion against the flat plane of his back.He deliberately stood just far enough to be out of reach, purposely denying Will the contact of pressing his hips flush against him.

“ ˆCekati, dragi moi.” A whisper in his ear before he heard a drawer opened to his left, the careful rummaging of one well familiar with the contents, and then, a tug and a rip of fabric… A fluttering of cloth, out of the corner of his eye, and the cool rush of exposed skin over his back and arms.

“I apologize, Will. My impatience for you makes me rude. I shall buy you another, of course.” Will shuddered, the rush of arousal sending him to the edge of his own restraint as Hannibal placed a hand firmly against his nape, turning his scalpel to the leather belt wrapped around Will’s hips. “Trousers as well, naturally” A kiss to the dip of his spine as the blade was turned to the cashmere of his trousers, quickly divested, until he found himself standing nude before Hannibal...utterly exposed, hips canted, cock pressing desperately into the solid surface of the desktop, desperate for friction, for contact….

Hannibal leaned forward, drawing a solitary finger across the small puddle of cowper’s fluid quickly pooling beneath Will, placing it reverently between his lips. “Already so wet for me... What’s to be done about that?”  

 

Grasping his last shred of coherence, Will decided risk could be worth the reward. Curiosity outweighing sense, perhaps, but…. 

“I think you ought to fuck me over this desk until I can’t walk straight, Doctor.”

 A slap, fast and stinging against the side of his thigh, delivered the reprimand for his sass.

“So rude, mylimasis.” he drawled, his palm rubbing lazy circles against Will’s ass, fingers pausing to dig his fingers into the supple flesh, massaging, gripping, worshiping. The next slap, a wave of heat against the meat of his ass, took him by surprise, the force behind the blow rendering him breathless, sending him further over the desk, a fresh wave of wetness blooming from the tip of his cock.

“ _Fuck_ ” He breathed, eyes closed. “God,   _Hannibal… ”_

 

“You know my thoughts on vulgar language, Will. As well as that on the subject of divinity... You seem intent on pushing your boundaries with me tonight...may I not be afforded the same privilege?”

 Will nodded his head, overwhelmed as he felt the tip of Hannibal’s tie make a slow journey up from the dip of his spine, feeling Hannibal _finally_ press his hardness against the stinging flesh of his ass, teasing as always.

 Fingers gripped his hair, jerking his head backwards. “Speak.”

 “ _Yes._ ”   He breathed, turning his head to the side to trail his tongue against the raised line of the scar transversing the length of Hannibal’s wrist. _His_   scar.  “Do your worst, for I shall do mine.”

 

Hannibal’s teeth flashed in a rare grin, glinting with all the dark promise of sin. He buried his free fingers in the trinity knot of his tie, quickly divesting himself of its length and securing it tightly around Will’s head, pulling back and effectively gagging him. Will moaned against the woven silk, his head drawn back harshly to rest upon the crest of Hannibal’s shoulder, his throat taut and exposed.

 

“Good boy.” Hannibal praised, earning a shudder from the man prone beneath him. He reached into the still open drawer, withdrawing a glass vial of lubricant, releasing his grip on the tie and allowing Will to fold forward over the desk, catching his breath. He heard  sound of rustling fabric as Hannibal relieved himself of his jacket and shirt, kicking his trousers under the desk, before retrieving the lubricant and spreading it liberally between his fingers. He rubbed his fingers together, lending his warmth, before splaying one hand against the flesh of Will’s shoulders and the other with fingers pressing enticingly against his entrance.

 He began slowly, a single finger breaching him, teasing, pressing upwards and withdrawing just shy of brushing his prostate, before being joined by a second, and then a third, stretching, scissoring, opening and preparing Will as lovingly as any exquisite meal upon his table. Will was thankful for the gag, rendering him incapable of begging, muffling the near sobs he produced as Hannibal tormented him relentlessly, and he keened when Hannibal finally pressed three fingers firmly down, brushing against the bundle of nerves, sending a shock down Will’s spine at the sudden, electric burst of pleasure.

 

 “I believe your request was for me to  ‘ _fuck you until you couldn’t walk’_...is that correct? Nod your head, yes or no.”

 Will nodded, pressing himself further down against the surface of the desk, prostrating himself wantonly. Hannibal ripped the gag from his teeth, the fabric sagging to hang loosely around his neck. “Beg.” He commanded. “Let me hear you, mylimasis, you beg so beautifully for me. Arch your back, let me see you...whatever you want, you need only ask….”

There was no room for shame, only desperate, throbbing need.  “Please, Hannibal, _please_ ….I need…” He rambled, he was so aroused his head felt clouded, unable to think straight.

“Yes?”

Will’s thoughts spun wildly, trying to grasp at the words Hannibal needed to hear to give him what he wanted, what he needed…

“I need you inside me, I need to come, _please ._..Hannibal...I need to feel you.”

Hannibal hummed noncommittally, seemingly content with rubbing the thick head of his cock over and over Will’s entrance, driving Will insane.

And then, Will remembered….a new game. He took a deep breath.

“Fuck me, daddy.”

 

Hannibal growled behind him, causing gooseflesh to erupt over Will’s arms, before he was being pressed down into the grain of the desk once again before Hannibal was pushing into him. Will moaned at the burn, that delightful, delirious duet of pleasure and pain as he was breached, feeling himself stretched to the brim, the fullness overwhelming him. Conjoined in a pas de deux, Will released a shuddering breath as he felt the press of warm thighs against the flesh of his ass as he sheathed himself to the hilt. Hannibal did not pause for more than a breath before beginning to move, thrusting fast and hard into Will’s welcoming body, pounding into him relentlessly. The man was passionate in everything that he did, and his attention to Will was no exception.

 

“We should have done this years ago,” Will panted, his arms straining from holding his position steady on the slick surface of the desk, “Your therapy would have been much more effective if you had just bent me over the desk in your office and….” he gasped as Hannibal delivered another quick slap to his thigh for his words, but continued unfazed “...and fucked me senseless.”

“My therapy was perfectly effective, Will.” Hannibal argued, slipping an arm under Will’s hips to draw him upwards and closer, lifting a leg on the desk to angle his thrusts downwards, hitting Will’s prostate in sweet punishment for his remark with every stroke. “But the benefits of frequent orgasm would no doubt have had wonderful effects on your elevated stress.”

“What is it they say about hindsight?” Will chuckled, stifling another stuttered groan as Hannibal pressed deeper with the new angle.

“Will I need to gag you again, William? I wish to enjoy each and every movement of our sonata.”  Hannibal’s voice was even despite the exertion, and Will envied his composure.

 “Why? You don’t want to hear how I laid in my bed in Wolf Trap, shuddering... _ah..._ as I brought myself off thinking about my hands ….. wrapped around your throat?”

 

Hannibal pulled out suddenly, and Will moaned at the sudden loss, the emptiness feeling foreign, wrong, his hands reaching out behind him to draw him  closer before a pair of strong hands descended upon his shoulders and he found himself abruptly flipped over onto his back and slammed into the desk, facing Hannibal. He casually draped Will’s knees over his shoulders, grasping his cock and guiding himself slowly back inside Will’s body. His fingers brushed against the fine hair of his thighs as he aligned himself with his entrance and Will shuddered at the sensation, all thoughts of the dull pain in his back quickly fleeing. He pushed back in slowly, one inch at a time, seeming to savor the warmth, the tightness of his body, using a hold on Will’s hips to draw him forward until the back of his legs were flush against his torso. His rhythm slowed in a gradual diminuendo, and his eyes never left Will’s.

 

“I prefered the time in the Maldives when you told me you wanted to feel my come dripping down your thighs. That was a distinct image, one I am quite fond of recreating.”

_“Shit_ ... _yes_ …. You also seemed to like the time...I told you I wanted to....ride you until your knees buckled and your eyes rolled back.. _..._ squeeze you until you popped, like…. _ah_... warm champagne.”  Will’s hands scrambled desperately against the smooth surface of the desktop, seeking a hand hold, finally grasping with white knuckles against the side of the desk.

“Another memory cherished and oft recreated. Tell me, Will; did you fantasize about a moment like this during our sessions in Baltimore?” He leaned closer, sharp teeth closing around the flesh of his lobe.  “ _I did.”_

 “Oh god.” Will panted, sweat gathering at his hairline, his legs going numb as Hannibal held resolutely to his ankles. “I believe there was once where I had a thought..about...the ladder.”

“You as well?” Hannibal’s voice was brimming with wicked mirth as he gradually increased his pace, not quite furioso, but enough to leave Will breathless. “How interesting.” He pulled out and stepped back with a consoling murmur, Will moaned brokenly at the loss.

 

“Can you walk?” he smirked, “I imagine your legs will be shaking for some time.”

Will’s remaining pride prevented him from admitting the truth of this, his muscles would likely be quaking for hours, so he shook his head in the affirmative, grasping Hannibal’s proffered hand to stand upright.

 “Excellent.”  Hannibal leaned to his right, grasping the modern lamp sitting upon the corner of the desk, holding it firmly in one hand before violently yanking the cord free and Will jumped as he dropped the lamp to the ground with a crash, coiling the cord around his hands. “Walk.” Hannibal commanded, his fingertips curling swiftly around the back of Will’s neck, yanking him forward to meet his lips in as they stumbled backwards towards the bookshelves lining the far wall. Will felt himself flush bodily with the heat of their embrace, their kindled lust burning brightly as the morning star.  Will’s tongue swept across the seam of his lips, seeking entrance, and Hannibal opened to him with a sigh, licking into his mouth with equal fervor, fighting for dominance. Will broke away with a gasp as he felt his back collide with the edge of a shelf….and the cold surface of  sliding chrome library ladder.

 

“You cunning bastard.” Will chuckled. “I knew there was a reason you insisted on this house.”

“Besides the kitchen.” Hannibal amended, moving impossibly closer, pressing the hardened length of his cock against Will’s own, grinding into him shamelessly.

 “Besides the kitchen.” Will groaned in assent, barely aware of Hannibal lifting his arms  above his head before he felt the cold sensation of cord being wrapped around his forearms, lashing him to the rungs of the ladder. “The hell--”

“You’ll thank me, mylimasis.” Hannibal replied briskly, intent upon his task. “Your arms would have given out before I finished.”  

 He pulled downwards on the knot with a nod, satisfied. He trailed his fingers down the tender flesh of Will’s inner arms, first the right, and then the left, pausing to gently circle the round puckers of scar tissue left by a long ago knife and Chiyoh’s bullet. The trailed along the crest of his collarbone, dipping into the succulent dent of his throat, lingering as they brushed each rib to rub sensually against the length of the scar, _his_ scar, on his abdomen. Will shuddered at the gentle, whispering caress. Hannibal sank to his knees, his lips fluttering over the raised, pink line, pressing his lips to the scar, before his tongue began a sinful rhythm of flicks and dragging sucks against the line, perfectly in time, Will realized, with the sonata still playing behind them. Will was unable to stop his hips from jerking forward hopefully, Hannibal’s mouth so near his neglected cock, hanging heavy and full between his legs, _throbbing_ …

 

“Ah, ah.” Hannibal chastised, drawing himself to his full height. “Patience.” He ran his hands torturously up the back of Will’s legs, hooking behind his knees to draw them forward to wrap around his waist, aligning himself at his entrance. “I would have you come, just like this, mylimasis.” He breathed in a low rush, sliding back inside Will in a single, deep stroke. “Untouched. Stretched around me.”

 Impaled, Will thought, his full weight settled on Hannibal’s hips and held aloft by the cord binding his wrists. Stretched, filled, thoroughly fucked, and dangerously, deliriously in love with the man inside him.

“Yes.” Will whispered, wrapping his legs tighter around his husband, drawing him closer, _deeper_ …

Hannibal revelled in the sight of Will clinging to him, wrists bound, sweat beading on his skin, shuddering with each brutal thrust he delivered, hammering relentlessly into his tight heat. Will was so close, his cock trapped and leaking between them, rubbing _just_ barely enough for the friction he needed to tumble over the edge.

 “So close… _fuck_.”  He panted. “Don’t stop.” He could feel his orgasm building, a tingling at the base of his spine, spreading down through his limbs. Every stroke against his prostate elicited a wave of white hot pleasure, an electric shock driving every thought from his head. He had become pure sensation, held aloft by the warmth of flesh and blood, and by the melody of the sonata,  their rhapsody. Dizzying sequences of notes wove through the air to brush seductively against his senses, rising in tremulous crescendo to end in blissful cadence.

“Come for me, Will.”

It was more than crescendo, Will realized as the wave over took him with a keening moan, a deep quaking starting in his belly; it was, no doubt, as Hannibal intended: sinful choreography, an orchestrated ecstacy of _la petite mort_.  His head flew back with a moan, his legs pulling Hannibal into him desperately, his muscles clamping down around the length of him in a silken embrace as he spilled in pearlescent waves across their entwined forms.

“Will…” His name, a breath, whispered with all the reverence of benediction, before Hannibal’s rhythm faltered, and he buried himself to the hilt in a final stroke, a great chord and clash of timpani in the background, stilling with a groan as he emptied deep into Will, pulsing hot and molten inside of him.

 

 The stood there, conjoined, catching their breath. Necessities were attended to in comfortable silence. Will’s bonds were quickly unwound, the forgotten necktie removed with a chuckle, and used to quickly clean their pleasure from their stomachs and thighs.

“I fail to see how you can complain of my dry cleaning bill, when you are so often the cause.” Hannibal remarked dryly as Will dropped the tie amongst the scattered remains of their clothing. He settled comfortably, and completely nude, onto the upholstered settee, taking a draught of the warm rakija still sitting upon the table. He tugged Will’s hand, guiding him to lay against him, stretching out over the length of the settee, enjoying the breeze cooling the shared heat of their bodies.

 “You would have had it dry cleaned anyway.” Will tilted his head from side to side, sighing in contentment as he heard the vertebrae pop and release, and sank down even further into the comforting warmth of the arms encircling him.

 “Regardless, --”

 "Hannibal,” Will leaned forward and until their lips brushed with every exhale, noses touching, silencing the good doctor for the moment. “Fuck the dry cleaning. And fuck the dishes. I’ll do them tomorrow. Take me to bed.”

 “As you wish.”

 

Will drew the plush duvet over their shoulders as they lay, entwined, upon their bed; alone and content, the swells of silence filled with gentle lovers sighs. A brush of of lips against warm skin, the intimacy comfortable, cherished.

 “Amato, il più bello di quelli caduti...mio amor che move il sole e l'altre stelle.” A whisper, dancing over Will’s skin like tendrils of tender adoration. 

“Paraphrasing Dante again?” Hannibal felt Will’s lips twist into a smile as he teased, laid against his chest, burrowing further into the warmth.

“Indulge me.”

“When do I not?” Will hummed sleepily in response, his limbs heavy, his body sated, falling gently into sleep.

“Sei un bel inferno…”

“Myliu tave.” Will mumbled, words stretching around a wide yawn as he settled further into Hannibal’s embrace.

“Anch’io.” Hannibal rubbed his cheek against the crown of his head, pressing a kiss into his hair. “Tell me, beloved, will you always react so ...delightfully... when I play you a sonata?”

“I can’t be sure...” Will frowned, his expressions sluggish with impending sleep. “But I’m ...curious ...what will happen. Only one way to find out; try, try again. ” He slipped soundly into slumber in his arms with the ghost of his smile upon his face.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Many MANY thanks to my incredible friend, beta and partner-in-thirst, @shadowyhannigram. You're the best, bae.  
> Please forgive any translation errors in Croatian, Lithuanian, French or Italian, my own knowledge is rudimentary at best, and Google Translate was heavily relied upon in the writing of this work. 
> 
> Please comment and let me know what you think, compliments and constructive criticism equally appreciated xx.


End file.
